


Chris Springs

by ssodangdark



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Awkward First Times, Denial of Feelings, First Crush, Happy endings guaranteed, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Not Smut Heavy, Sexuality Crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 19:48:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18880033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssodangdark/pseuds/ssodangdark
Summary: "Chris Springs. Remember him?""No? ChrisSprings?""He played basketball for Campbell University, and he could jump really high."





	Chris Springs

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly about Rhett, but there will be Rhink do not worry. 100% blatantly stolen from [this anon](https://ssodangdark.tumblr.com/post/184977519049/12-chris-springs-has-rhett-spun-out-for-years-he) that I received, so thanks anon you a real one. Also obviously based on [this moment](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gZWPNUzEJK0&feature=youtu.be&t=290).

The first time it happened, Rhett thought he was sick. He was 15 years old, and obviously still very capable of being disciplined by his parents. His mom had caught him sneaking home after curfew, so his punishment was to help his father pack up his office to move into the newly renovated building of the law school. It was the week of Thanksgiving, so campus was mostly deserted as he carried crate after crate of his dad’s books across the quad. He was bored already after moving just a few boxes, and decided to take the long way back to his dad’s current office, making a quick stop into the gym on his way there.

Walking in, he immediately heard the familiar sound of sneakers squeaking on the floor. He followed the noise to the main gymnasium, where he found the basketball team practicing. Surely his dad wouldn’t notice if he was gone for a few more minutes. He sat at the far end of the bleachers and watched the men run drills, effortlessly sinking layups and free throws and three-pointers. Lost in his own fantasy about playing on a college basketball court one day, he almost didn’t notice a ball rolling toward him. It caught his eye at the last second, and he jumped up from his seat to retrieve it as it made its escape. He walked back to the court with the ball as one of the players jogged toward him. The man held up his hands and Rhett chest-passed the ball to him.

“Thanks,” he said, coming to a stop in front of Rhett instead of returning to practice. It was Chris Springs — number 23, senior, point guard. He could jump _really_ high. The older man looked him up and down for a second. “You lookin’ to try out or somethin’?”

“Oh, uh, no,” Rhett stammered his way through an explanation. “I play for Harnett Central, my dad is a professor here. I was just helping him and I got bored.”

“Cool. Maybe I’ll see you at a game sometime.” Chris smacked him lightly on the shoulder before rejoining the other men on the court.

Turning on his heels, Rhett walked out of the gym as quickly as possible. His stomach felt heavy and his throat was slowly tightening. He was worried that he might simultaneously throw up and faint, and his skin burned where Chris had touched him.

“Where’ve you been?” his dad demanded as soon as he entered his office.

“Sorry,” Rhett mumbled. “Think I’m getting sick.” He didn’t look his father in the eye as he reached down to pick up another box.

That season, Rhett was at every Fighting Camels game. He told his dad that he wanted to start getting more serious about preparing for college basketball, and games at Campbell just so happened to be the most convenient way for him to do that. At the beginning of each game, he steeled himself to focus on the ball and follow the action, but he always ended up distracted by one person. Chris definitely wasn’t a star player, but Rhett was captivated nonetheless. He moved so gracefully, effortlessly weaving between opponents to catch a rebound. His calves flexed when he prepared for a jump, showing off impressive muscles. If he happened to look up into the crowd during the game and make eye contact with Rhett, the younger boy’s cheeks would immediately catch fire, a familiar sick feeling creeping into his stomach.

Eventually the season ended, and Rhett tried to forget about Chris Springs. Link was already teasing him for how often he recounted shot-for-shot the few points the athlete scored during games.

————

The second time it happened, Rhett knew enough to know that he wasn’t sick. He’d spent the last three years molding himself into the person he wanted to be. He knew the kinds of comments people made about him and Link, and he went to extreme lengths to let it be known that there was no truth behind them. If Link stepped a little too close to him in public, he made a show of nudging him away. He started hooking up with girls, developing a reputation of being a ladies’ man. And of course, he worked his way to star status on the basketball team.  

The team was on the road, traveling for state playoffs. They were staying at a cheap hotel, and everyone was assigned a roommate. Rhett’s heart jumped when he heard he’d be rooming with Scott Hurst for the duration of their stay — a feeling he quickly shoved away.

The two barged into their hotel room, still riding the adrenaline high from winning their game that night. Rhett started busting out some sort of victory dance as the other boy rummaged through his duffel bag.

“Feel like celebrating?” Scott said, brandishing a fifth of whiskey with a smile. Rhett’s stomach churned at the still fresh memory of his and Link’s homemade strawberry wine, but he nodded anyway. They settled in on their separate beds as they passed the bottle back and forth, filling the little cups provided in their room and downing them just as quickly. Eventually they got tired of leaning across to hand the bottle off, so Rhett moved to sit next to Scott on his bed, careful to keep an acceptable distance between them.

With the alcohol clouding his mind, Rhett let himself toe the line he had set years ago. He sat back on his elbows and observed the man in front of him — he had dark, silky hair and blue eyes set beneath a strong brow bone. It wasn’t until they’d been sitting in silence for a beat too long that Rhett realized he was staring.

The image he’d worked so hard to build begged him to laugh it off, make a joke, do _anything_ to shift the blame. Instead, he held his gaze, searching Scott’s eyes for an explanation as to why he hadn’t broken the stare either.

He couldn’t tell if the alcohol was making his body move faster than his brain, or if it was the other way around, but his hand was wrapped around the back of his teammate’s head, their lips crashing together desperately. Not allowing himself to think even one step ahead, he worked purely on instinct, following the other’s lead when needed. It was sloppy and rough, both well on their way to intoxicated. Despite his inebriation, Rhett was hard in what seemed like seconds. He wouldn’t compare that to how long it took him to get it up when he was hooking up with a girl — not right now.

As if reading his mind, Scott reached down and grabbed at the front of his shorts. Rhett held back a moan, too afraid to make any noise and potentially wake himself from what had to be a dream. He brought a hand down to palm at Scott as well, and found him in a similar state.

They moved like that for a few minutes, making out and rutting into each other, the only sounds being the slight creak of the bed and their tongues wet against one another. Rhett came quickly and with little warning, white hot nerves shooting up his abdomen as he let out a high, strangled grunt. He moved Scott’s hand away from his crotch, the other clearly not yet realizing what had happened. He then shoved his hand down his partner’s shorts, grasping him and working his hand up and down.

Finally, Scott broke the silence and groaned, the sound sending a shiver down Rhett’s spine. Trying to elicit another noise, he leaned down and brought his mouth to the clothed bulge. He ran his tongue up and down the length through his shorts before wrapping his lips around the tip. Scott bucked up against his mouth and came with another groan. He slapped Rhett’s hand away from his softening cock as he stood and stumbled to the bathroom.

Rhett pulled himself up as well, feeling like a kicked puppy. He grabbed some tissues from the nightstand and cleaned himself up, realizing it was unlikely he would get a turn in the bathroom. Climbing into his own bed, he turned off the lamp and curled away from the bathroom door. Suddenly too sober, he felt dirty and ashamed. Hot tears pricked at his eyes, and he buried his face into his pillow.

————

In college, Rhett forced himself to shove everything back down into the box he’d created in his mind after Chris Springs. He’d been careless before, and he let things get out of hand. That wouldn’t happen again. He started his freshman year sharing a tiny dorm room with Link — he could _not_ make the same mistake he’d made with Scott.

It wasn’t as easy this time to play his self-imposed role. Every time he deflected a joke or tried too hard to flirt with a girl, it felt like everyone could see right through him. His outward image was a thin glass shield, and it constantly seemed to be on the verge of cracking, exposing the lie he’d been hiding since ninth grade.

He did okay until their junior year. He and Link were living in an apartment with a few other guys, and they were lying side to side on Link’s bed. They’d all had friends over earlier in the night, but the two of them snuck away after a few hours to let their roommates deal with their guests. They sat mostly in silence, enjoying the peace and each other’s company.

“What’d you think of that girl Gregg invited over?” Link asked, rolling his head to the side to look at Rhett. “What was her name? Summer?”

“Autumn, man,” Rhett kicked him lightly, playfully chastising him for his terrible memory for names.

“Riiiiight, Autumn,” Link grinned. “What a name.” Rhett blew air out of his nose. “Do we know a Summer?”

“Summer Haines,” Rhett provided. “Moved to Buies Creek in seventh grade. She was on the volleyball team.” He wiggled his eyebrows for extra effect, drawing a giggle out of his friend.

“Never met a Winter,” Link said. “Never met a Spring, either.” Something stirred in Rhett’s gut.

“What about someone with the last name Spring?” Every rational part of his brain screamed at him to stop, but he didn’t listen. “Chris Springs. Remember him?”

Link raised an eyebrow, and the corner of his mouth twitched slightly. “No…” he said slowly. “Chris _Springs_?”

“He played basketball for Campbell University,” Rhett continued, “and he could jump really high.”

Neither one said anything for a moment, the conjured memory floating between them without purpose.

“You liked him,” Link said flatly. A familiar panic moved into Rhett’s throat. “You were obsessed with his playing.”

“Yeah.” The taller boy calmed slightly at the clarification. “I liked watching him play.”

They sat once more in silence before Rhett opened his mouth against everything he’d been working to protect.

“I did like him.”

All he could hear was a loud buzzing in his ears as Link stayed motionless.

“Whaddaya mean?”

Rhett laughed nervously. “C’mon, man.” He looked at his friend stretched out next to him and was met with serious and inquisitive eyes. He had made his bed, and now he had to lie in it.

“I liked him,” he said again, this time with a note of finality. “I met him once when I was helping my dad at work, and, I dunno, he made some sort of impression on me I guess. I didn’t let myself think about it too much then, but I definitely liked him.”

Link shifted onto his elbow so he could face Rhett easier. He chewed on his bottom lip.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said finally, releasing his abused lip. “Do you wanna…talk about it…more?”

“There’s not much else to tell.” Rhett fidgeted with a small hole in the comforter, refusing to meet Link’s eyes. “Like I said, I didn’t even entertain it as an option back then. Or now either, I guess. I don’t know.” He swallowed hard before continuing. “There was one other guy.”

Link raised his eyebrows, his face still seemingly free of judgement.

“Senior year, when we were traveling for states. Scott Hurst was my roommate.” Rhett searched for a reaction, and continued when he found none. “We’d just won our game, and Scott had a bottle of whiskey. We drank for a while, and I don’t even really know what happened. He got me off, and then I gave him some kind of half-assed handjob. We never talked about it after that.”

Link didn’t speak at first, clearly attempting to process the new information in his head instead of out loud.

“So…” he began, “you liked him, too?”

Rhett shook his head. “No. I don’t know? I don’t think so. He was just _there_ , and it felt right. Until it didn’t.”

“So you never liked any other guys?”

“Link,” Rhett warned, growing frustrated with the line of questioning. He didn’t have any answers for his friend — he barely even had those answers for himself.

“Did you ever like me?”

Rhett’s breath caught in his throat and his cheeks burned. “Link, listen. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. You don’t have to worry, I don’t even know what any of this means…” He rambled on until Link stopped him.

“What if I _want_ you to like me?”

The air stilled as neither of them moved to say anything. Link had always been off limits to Rhett. Chris Springs, Scott Hurst — they were safe targets. But the consequences of letting his already forbidden feelings drift to his best friend were unthinkable. While he kept his attraction to men locked away, he still acknowledged it when absolutely necessary. The possibility of being attracted to Link, however, was something he never even went close to.

That doesn’t mean that the feeling wasn’t there, riding low for years beneath every interaction — every afternoon at the river, every late night road trip, every shared mixtape, every accidental brush of skin.

Like he had with Scott years ago, Rhett quieted the part of his mind that he’d trained to stop this exact scenario from playing out. He reached over to brush his thumb along Link’s cheekbone before dipping down to press their lips together. A slow warmth spread through his face down into his body when Link kissed back. It wasn’t quick and dirty like it had been for him that night in the hotel room. Link’s lips were soft and fit perfectly against his. There was no urgency in their movements, no desperate need to release their pent-up hormones.

Link broke their slow makeout session first, placing his hands flat on Rhett’s chest and pulling back just enough to see him clearly.

“So, is that a yes?” he asked shyly. “Do you like me?”

Rhett rolled his eyes, a grin breaking out across his face. He pulled his best friend back for another kiss.

“Yes,” he mumbled into Link’s mouth. “I always have.”


End file.
